funerals suck.
it’s hard to see the end of a life. it may be a bit easy if the person has been suffering or is older, but it is harder if the person is young. in my lifetime, i have seen both scenarios. for the younger person, you are left will this jaded, angry confused feeling as you visualize the dimness of what was once their bright limitless horizon. but, in both cases…we are left.
and if you are like me, you begin to examine your own life. your victories and your defeat. and you quickly try to investigative…to fix and mend. you start asking…
could i be healthier? more well-rounded? more loving? should i relax more? eat better? travel more? play more? be less fearful? more uninhibited? more revolutionary? more demanding? more caring? should i tell them this thing that i’ve been holding back?
the truth is we can change and make adjustments but we are really never in control and nothing is really promised by changing anything. in any case, we can either still just win or lose.
we never really know our end and there’s nothing we can do about it for we had little to do with the beginning anyway. that is how miniscule we are in the whole broad landscape of time and the universe. the tiny embers of our souls probably look like collective dust from afar…and there are countless embers, points of lights, and we are still such a small percentage of energies that exist.
so what do we do? we can do our best with the tools we have been given and walk. that’s it. just walk.
after i had arrived in california, around 3 in the morning, 6am my usual eastern standard time, i found myself playing the police’s ‘message in a bottle’ horribly on guitar with my cousin grinning at my side and coaching me. i heard the fatal disharmony of a chord or so and i winced. for every random run, i fell back into musical frustration, sitting on the very edge of an otherwise comfortable couch. my playing was horrible. my cousin laughed. bottles were even thrown at the stage. luckily missing me but creating a frothy mess on a back speaker or so.
we were playing ‘guitar hero’ on playstation three. after a few more murderous renditions of rock songs, i insisted i should get some rest but found myself playing much better on rage against the machine’s ‘killing in the name.’ if you already know how to play guitar, i can’t decided if ‘guitar hero’ is friend or foe.
but it is the unplanned moments of life that bring unsound joy… (lesson one)
we traveled a bit thru the bh…beverly hills. i had never been to LA but became immediately entranced with it. well, beverly hills, of course. the higher we drove, the more breathtaking the view through gates then bushes that when peaked through gave a stunning view at a perfectly sophisticated and ritzy landscape.
we passed through streets and stared at enormous homes. we even passed a film crew parked outside of a house.
i daydreamed about living in beverly hills. i envisioned myself stumbling through my stainless steel industrial yet open and airy kitchen. passing through a hallway, decorated with small black and white photographs on a darkly yet warmly painted wall. i thought about how it would feel to pull back my massive asian styled drapes and feel the full radiance of sun come fully through. i climbed my staircase, walking past my study, past my illustriously modeled bathroom with jacuzzi, then the gym wondering if i left my fendi sunglasses in either the 2007 lamborghini gallardoor or the range rover parked outside. and inside of my fantasy i knew that if i did have all of this and had not love…i had nothing. to be rich materialistically and as far as the eye could see…but have no soul, no heart, no warmth, no one who ‘got me,’ no one to share it with, i’d then have nothing. (lesson two)
i have a lot of family in california and when we do meet it is so few and far between. but one night i found myself in the presence of another cousin of mine. a tall lanky and handsome young man…but most of my cousins fit this description.
we became engrossed in a conversation that left me awe-inspired. we talked about any topic directly tied to hot topics of discussion that can be pulled from any newspaper in the country. we talked about the war, rap/hip hop and the unfounded media scrutiny while csi and law and order glorify what music sometimes talks about, tupac (prophet?), the government, the war on drugs, imus and race. each topic became more engaging and before me sat a young man so articulate and intelligent that i felt blessed to be in his presence and quickly became excited about the man he would become. he radiated as a scholar. i reveled in this. he talked to me about how people assume he is illiterate or unintelligent by the clothes he wears and/or by the fact that he is a black. we shared ideas, hopes and he taught me a lot. he told me what to research. and when i could back up a few points and throw chase to citing a few lyrics that back up our political stances, he smiled. i live for the intimacy of minds…and ideas…and the sharing of thoughts and the building up or breaking down of conceptions in general.
we have to be so careful with our perceptions of others. if we don’t pay attention we will surely lose our humanity and all the joys that come with vast amounts of people, walks of life, stories, ideas and beliefs that exist. (lesson three)
of course, i knew all of these lessons beforehand but they were more personified collectively on this trip…this trip i clearly did not want to take.
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